Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Stargram Star
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About fifteen minutes had passed since I woke up in the emergency room.
During that time, the FM coach had been completely silent. After wrapping up the agency talk, he clammed up.
He'd answer direct questions, sure, but beyond that? Not a peep.
He was incredibly passive.
'He was so chatty earlier... What's with the sudden shyness?'
The IV still had a ways to go, and I couldn't just kill time in this awkward silence.
But taking the lead myself? Truth is, I'm just as introverted as the FM coach.
'Wish Screenwriter Bae was here yapping away.' But no, he was out in the waiting area.
In the end, it felt worse than being alone—but their intention to stick by my side was touching all the same.
I had time-killing YouTube for company, so conversation wasn't necessary anyway.
Before long, the final drop hit the IV bag.
True to its fame as the ultimate time assassin, the minutes vanished in a flash.
"Oh, right. You covered the bill for me earlier, Coach? Thank you. How much was it? I'll transfer it to your account."
"It's a secret."
"...Pardon?"
The world is full of secrets.
The FM coach no doubt has some he doesn't want to share.
I respect everyone's privacy.
But my own hospital bill being a secret from me? Come on.
"The action school covers stuff like this. It's part of student welfare—no need to worry."
Everything's "student welfare" with them.
Scouting agencies, footing medical bills... Next thing you know, they'll buy me a house.
It felt a little off, but calling the school to verify their welfare policy seemed petty. If they're offering it for free, why be prickly and insist on paying out of pocket...?
'Wait... Is this a sales tactic?'
I had no clue what action school costs, but one session had to be pricier than this bill.
For them, covering a hospital fee was cheap advertising—leaving a killer impression for pennies.
Classic promotion.
I nearly fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
I was already thinking that if I ever needed action school again, it'd be this one.
Action School... Couldn't drop my guard inside or out.
Using that innocent face of an FM coach for salesmanship like this?
It was pure capitalism—the kind everyone navigating society should aspire to.
I left the ER and hopped into the taxi Screenwriter Bae had hailed.
My body felt fine now, and I hated spending money, but he insisted.
Screenwriter Bae, you really are...
"Just hand the change to her when you arrive. Thanks so much, driver!"
Almost loved him for it.
Guessing I'd refuse, he tapped the passenger window, chucked in a crisp 50,000-won note, and bolted.
The two of them... they'd either stick around for a date or head home. Whatever.
Worrying about two grown men? My plate was full enough.
The second I got home, I collapsed onto the bed alongside my battered muscles.
Action School was off for three days.
Muscles vary by person and area, but 24 to 72 hours is prime recovery time.
The school knew it too—hence the three-day break.
I'd clocked their thoroughness from deploying that unlikely salesman, the FM coach.
Ironclad operation.
Even rest periods were meticulously scheduled.
As if synced with Atelier—no shoots lined up for those three days either.
Without those gigs, I was unemployed.
A total bum, rotting in my room bingeing YouTube.
Not that I spent all day mindlessly killing time, though.
I was hunting down acting tutorials on YouTube.
Analyzing senior actors' clips, too.
Absolutely never watched girl group fancams.
No idea why the algorithm kept shoving them at me.
Anyway, nope.
Over the three-day rest, I stuck to balanced meals to shake off my malnutrition.
Convenience stores these days sell pre-chopped green onions, peeled onions—you name it.
Breakfast: bento box. Lunch: fruit, nuts, yogurt. Dinner: protein-packed mixed rice.
A leisurely, indulgent vacation.
Cola joined every meal, naturally.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Back at Atelier after what felt like ages(?).
The moment I stepped into the office, CEO Kim Seulgi came rushing out.
"Winter! Heard you collapsed. You okay now?"
"Whoa... how'd you know? Just orthostatic hypotension or whatever. Nothing to worry about."
I hadn't told anyone at Atelier to spare them the concern.
Yet CEO Kim Seulgi was already in the loop.
They really were coordinating with Action School.
Action School and Atelier. Suspiciously in sync.
Felt straight out of The Truman Show.
'...Maybe they've built a hyper-realistic set to monitor TS patients 24/7.'
Gotta pretend to snoop around the office later and hunt for cameras.
Conspiracy theories aside.
Today was for a meeting, not a shoot.
Wondered if a mere part-timer like me belonged, but...
The boss invited me, so I owned it.
Maybe they wanted to school me on corporate life.
Or show off how Atelier ticks—its vision and all.
If this happened back when I was a guy, I'd probably think CEO Kim Seulgi was smitten and grooming me to inherit the place.
Anyway, while sipping tea with CEO Kim Seulgi, the meeting prep wrapped up. Manager Lee Arang slipped in too.
"Briefing."
"Last month's online store sales rose 82% from the prior month. Mostly new traffic, not repeat customers. No ads run, and this level? Unprecedented."
With the meeting underway, up stepped the bespectacled, brainy career woman—Marketing Team Leader Yoo Seung-ah.
Team members: Yoo Seung-ah. Team leader: Yoo Seung-ah.
A marketing team of the Yoo Seung-ahs, by the Yoo Seung-ahs, for the Yoo Seung-ahs.
"82%... Premiumizing the brand line wouldn't yield that in one month. We're no big-corp subsidiary. Something else is at play..."
"Right, I looked into it. A Reels post popped up on Stargram. Check the screen."
I glanced at the white screen prepped on one wall of the CEO's office, following the staffer's gesture.
A phone screen mirrored perfectly onto it.
I'd figured it'd be some beamed PPT via projector.
But nope—straight phone mirroring.
My phone could probably do that too.
Mine runs on calls, texts, KakaoTalk, YouTube, and browser.
Five apps, tops.
Blown away by Team Leader Yoo's tech demo, but as a pro actress, I played it cool—sipped my tea casually.
But staying chill at the Reels on screen? Impossible.
"Pfft!"
I spat out my tea.
The image on the white screen was that shocking.
📱 Stargram Reels [Your Average Peninsula Fitting Model] Views: 10M+ | Likes/Comments/Shares: Off the charts
A Reels edit of my online store fitting clips, chopped up like viral GIFs.
My face burned crimson at the unexpected content.
"Now the comments."
💬 Comments — Anonymous What's this person's name? Anyone know the Star Star account? (♡1193) ↳ Reply It's @areyougay69. — View 42 more replies.
— Anonymous She should be an idol, not a fitting model. (♡887) ↳ Reply Even with heavy editing, doesn't seem idol material. — View 329 more replies.
— Anonymous These comments are filthy. Star Star level... (♡268) ↳ Reply What about your alt-account spam level? — View 426 more replies.
— Anonymous Do they send the model with the order? (♡842) — Anonymous Why's my wife here? (♡670) ⭐ Top Comment — Anonymous Cute, sexy, innocent, sultry, aloof, serene, beautiful—she's got all the best words wrapped up in one. (♡928) Team Leader Yoo Seung-ah read through the comments in a deadpan tone, unflappable as ever—even as my ears turned beet red.
She spotted malicious or near-hate comments in a flash...
And bam—reported them instantly?
Human fingers could move that fast?
Whatever. My face had transcended mortal embarrassment.
Ears burning hotter. Couldn't even glance at the screen anymore.
Couldn't stomach another comment readout.
Everyone else was chuckling and glued to the screen.
Then Manager Lee Arang glanced my way—maybe to tease?—and our eyes met.
"Winter, your face is beet red!"
"Please ignore me..."
If you saw, just pretend you didn't—why call it out?
Manager Lee Arang must be cut from the same cloth as Screenwriter Bae.
Wait, was that too much?
"You feeling sick somewhere?"
"My heart hurts, so leave me be..."
"Wait, are you actually embarrassed right now?"
"If you know, look elsewhere..."
My bid to redirect Manager Lee Arang's gaze flopped.
Now the whole room's eyes were on me.
"Winter, you're an influencer now?"
"...I'm not doing Stargram."
"Why not? Make an account—you'd rack up millions of followers easy."
"...This blew up on the algorithm. Not because of me."
They piled on like they'd planned to roast me.
Did the meeting wrap days ago, and this was just to mess with me?
Only Team Leader Yoo Seung-ah stayed poker-faced through it.
She adjusted her glasses with her palm and dropped one line.
That line pierced my heart.
"At this rate, starting Stargram would net eight-figure pay without breaking a sweat."
"...That much?"
Hmm... Stargram pays that well?
Forcing a straight face, but my heart was pounding.
"Over a million followers tags you as a mega-influencer usually. Ads start at 2 mil won. And 'ads' just mean one feed post. No downside."
My hand moved on autopilot—Stargram app downloading before I knew it.
Alien hand syndrome for real.
Stop, right hand! No Black Flame Dragon here—what's with the frenzy?
Tried reeling it in, but too late.
Stargram installed. Done deal.